


Do Foxes Like Pizza?

by BonsaiBovine



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friends and Disney films make everything better too, Friendship, Gen, Just Pre or Post s3, Pizza and Hot Chocolate make everything better, Pre-Slash If You Squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-20 04:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15526044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonsaiBovine/pseuds/BonsaiBovine
Summary: After an exhausting case, Ellie can convince Hardy to not be a lonely, miserable fool and to stay over for a bit. For some Pizza and Disney, at least.Inspired by Blueboxesandtrafficcones' adorable fic Bugs the Bunny





	Do Foxes Like Pizza?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Bugs the Bunny](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12338808) by [blueboxesandtrafficcones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueboxesandtrafficcones/pseuds/blueboxesandtrafficcones). 



> Which I urge you all to read if you haven't already, as it is absolutely adorable!
> 
> Also a million thanks to my beta, encourager and alround awesome friend Ottermo, without whom I would never ever have left the lurker state. You're the best!

When he finally came round, his head felt like it had been hit with a sledge hammer. He opened his eyes, struggling to regain focus and orientation. Through his hazy mind, he could make out dusky light floating through a window. Light, as from a dimmed lamp, reached him from somewhere behind his head. He groaned. How had he gotten here? And where was here?

He heard a high-pitched giggle and turned his hurting head towards the sound. The silhouette of a small child, their back turned to him, came into view.

Blood came rushing back into his head as he remembered: Missing children! There were children missing! He had to find them!

He sat bolt upright, feet swinging to the ground from where he was lying, and instantly regretted the movement. The blood left his head again and he was blinded by the sudden dizziness.

“There you are!” came a familiar voice, before he could properly see again. “We were wondering when you’d come round. Freddy suggested we might need to perform CPR on you. He seemed frighteningly keen, to be honest.”

Slowly the room came into focus, and the fog around his brain vanished. He took in the comfy living room he was sitting in. Fred, now turned to him, stared at him with round, curious eyes. Miller was crouching in front of a TV set, fiddling with something he couldn’t see. She pressed a few buttons and the cheery music of a DVD menu started to play.

“Right, all ready to go! You alright, sweetheart? Would you like some juice while you watch?”

The five year old shook his head, obviously already mesmerized by the screen, on which anthropomorphic animals moved around some kind of train station.

“Alright then. What about you, Sir? Would you like a glass of water? You look like you might need it.”

Still not quite overcoming his confusion, prepared but not yet physically able to spring into action, Hardy finally managed to speak. “The case, Miller!” He hoped she would register the urgency in his voice.

To his astonishment, Miller just let out a laugh. “Right?! That was quite something! These kids… If Tom ever pulls a stunt like that, I swear to God, I’m gonna…” She stopped in her tracks, glancing at the young boy between them. “Anyway… Absconding for a party. In bloody London of all places, and for a whole weekend without telling anyone? Were we as bloody stupid when we were teenagers?”

Right… slowly memory came flooding back to him.

“Mommy, play! Please!”

“Of course, darling,” she said, pressing the play button on the device. She got up, turning her attention towards Hardy again, who gathered by now that he must look quite a state, judging by how he felt.

“Let me get you that water,” she proclaimed. “You don’t mind sitting with Fred for a bit, do you?”

Without waiting for an answer, Miller had already left the room. On screen something that looked like an animated nature documentary started to play, although the narration didn’t sound very informative. Hardy sank back into the cushions, tilting his head back to rest it on the back of the sofa, eyes closed. The throbbing in his head slowly started to fade. Right… They had finished the case. Even though there wasn’t really much of a case to speak of, now that it was done, it had brought up all of his favourite personal demons.

Three girls, friends, aged 16 and 17, had been reported missing by one of the mums, early on Friday morning. Voluntary leave, of course, was one of their first theories, and they were really under no obligation to start a search or anything like that until much later. But after the parents had all shown themselves adamant that their kids were not ‘like that’, and the black hole in Hardy’s stomach was dangerously close to opening again, he and Miller had started investigating. It had not looked good for a while. The danger of hypothermia, should they be outside somewhere in the current weather conditions, had added to the pressure. And interviews with some of the seedy guys this town seemed to be full to the brim with, had left a bitter taste, and images in his mind that were less than welcome.

In the end it turned out to be nothing after all. The girls had decided to skip school, take the bloody bus from Weymouth to London and stay there, just to visit some concert.

But it had taken him and Miller into the early hours of Saturday morning to actually be sure of the girls’ whereabouts, another five hours to get them back to Broadchurch to take their statements, and until late morning to process it all. Just because no crime had actually taken place, didn’t mean there was no paperwork to be done. Bureaucracy would do that to the hard-working copper.

It was nearly noon by the time he and Miller had finally left the station. He had been about to go home, of course, though he had had no clear idea of what he would do when he got there. Even though he’d been exhausted, he hadn’t felt sleepy in the slightest. His body categorically refused to sleep during daytime and he would need to fight on into the evening. Or so he had thought.

Miller had offered him breakfast-lunch at her place, as even he, as she had put it, ‘couldn’t live off of rewarmed tea and sea air, no offence, Sir’. That much he remembered. He suspected there had been a couple of other things he couldn’t live on crossing Miller’s mind, likely concerning his character, but she had remained civil enough not to mention those.

Hardy also quite clearly remembered politely refusing her offer. He knew there had been some more sentiments exchanged, but how it happened that he found himself on her sofa with a cup of tea while she was bustling about in the kitchen, he had no clear recollection. Bloody Miller. His self-control was usually better than that, but she had a special way of neatly steering around his barricades if she wanted to.

He was pulled out of his reverie when he heard Miller’s steps coming back to the living room. He opened his eyes and slowly turned his head just as she approached, pushing a large glass of water in his direction.

“Here you go.”

“Ta,” he managed, taking the glass from her and taking a grateful sip.

Only now that he was drinking did he realise how thirsty he was, and he took a couple more deep gulps. The last traces of his headache came to a still.

Miller had perched herself next to him on the arm of the sofa. In her hands she cradled a cup of tea, her attention turned towards the screen. On it the lady-bunny who seemed to be the protagonist went through a montage of what looked like police training for animals. An American version, though. Hardy’s own training had been nothing as interesting or sporty. They sat in silence for a minute, following the colourful action, while he finished his water and planned his escape.

He cleared his throat and straightened his back. “Thanks for the water, Miller. And for…eh… letting me stay,” he said, trying not to sound too embarrassed.

“Only because you were too heavy for me to throw you out into the garden,” she answered, with mock-innocence in her voice, but not bothering to hide her grin. Hardy couldn’t help but smile in response.

“Oh, well then,” he said after another second, “Right. I must be off!” He tried to clamber out of the really very soft sofa. How the hell could he have slept on here without his back hurting all over?

“What?” She looked at him from her slightly higher position. Funny how imposing she could seem in even a relaxed moment like this. “Why must you, exactly?”

He stopped in his tracks which only served to have him sink into the sofa cushions again. “Well, you know. Always something to do…” he responded lamely, not really sure what his excuse was.

“Oh shut up! It’s Saturday afternoon. The case is all done and wrapped up, Daisy’s with her mum and you just slept for five hours. As if you’re going to sleep more any time soon. What else are you gonna do?” She looked at him, obviously challenging him for an answer.

He fished around for a suitable rebuttal, but could only come up with a dry “I do have a life, you know?”

Miller just quirked a sceptical eyebrow, which annoyed him a fair bit. But then again he couldn’t really fault her logic. With the case done, he really didn’t have anything to do until Daisy returned tomorrow afternoon. He could probably find some paper work at the station if he looked hard enough, but he had to admit, if only to himself, that the prospect didn’t sound too tempting.

“Besides,” started Miller again, her gaze turned towards the TV again, “You did promise me you would have breakfast, at least, before you return to your miserable solitude.”

“I did nothing of the sort!” he sputtered indignantly, but she didn’t pay him any attention.

“And you didn’t have anything to eat earlier. Barely drank any of your tea before nodding off. Had to wrestle it out of your hand so you wouldn’t spill it.”

Hardy felt embarrassed. It wasn’t like him to let his guard down like that.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You’d been up for 30-plus hours. You’re allowed to fall asleep on someone’s couch after a night like that one.” A grin spread across her face, that he knew wouldn’t mean a whole lot of good for him. “In fact, I feel quite honoured, you know? Knowing that you trust me like that.”

Hardy knew there was no point in starting an argument about this, so he decided to give in gracefully. “With my life and sleeping body, Miller,” he said and grinned back up at her.

Her grin grew even wider: “Who knew you could be so agreeable?” she quipped. “I should force you to take an afternoon nap more often.”

“Don’t you dare try!” he growled, but couldn’t quite suppress the mirth in his voice.

They both turned their attention back to the TV. The bunny apparently had finished her police training and had just been… conned… by a fox and a fennec stealing ice lollies? Of course. Bloody Disney. No wonder children grew into stupid teenagers watching junk like this. He saw his chance for revenge, though.

“She’s a bit like you, that bunny,” he said.

Miller turned and raised an eyebrow.

“Too fluffy for her own good,” he continued, “too soft.”

To her credit, Miller laughed loudly at that. “Ha! Just watch the rest of the film! She turns out to be quite a cool-ass copper, that bunny!”

“You’ve seen it before?” he asked incredulously. How anyone with half a brain could stand to watch nonsense like this even once, was quite beyond him.

She laughed again. “Of course! It’s a family favourite. Fred knows most of it by heart, don’t you, darling?”

“Shhh… I’m trying to watch!” came Fred’s impatient reply.

Miller just shrugged. “I quite like Judy, though. The bunny cop,” she added, at Hardy’s puzzled expression. “I can quite identify with her. Being a woman in police training in my time felt quite a bit like being a bunny rabbit between rhinos and cheetahs. Even the ones that don’t want to eat you don’t bother enough to take care not to stamp on you. Also…” here her grin returned, “I totally agree with Judy that traffic police is the most boring job our line of work has to offer.”

She laughed, but Hardy couldn’t quite find it in him to join in. He cringed, remembering Miller’s time with Devon police, how little he knew of it, and the events that had led her there. She had to work her way up to DS twice and he didn’t envy, but rather admired her for it.

Miller seemed to sense the shift in his mood, as her posture changed slightly. “I should get supper ready. How does Pizza sound?”

“Oh no, no I shouldn’t. I don’t want to be a bother. I’ll leave you in peace now.”

“My peace is not really impacted by you being here,” she said. “Or at least it won’t be, if you try your best not to act like an ungrateful knob,” she added, but he could tell it was all in good humour. Mainly, at least.

“Aren’t you tired, though? You didn’t sleep either last night,” he began, a last-ditch attempt to bow out without offending her. Normally he wasn’t too bothered about being offensive, but at the moment he really didn’t want to be an arsehole.

“Nah, I’m okay, actually,” she answered the question he had already nearly forgotten he’d asked. “I had a lie down for a couple of hours earlier as well. Tom took Fred to the pier, which was delightful. After enough whining and moaning, mind, but I’m grateful anyway.” Her expression turned sly. “Admittedly, I did add an hour onto his curfew tonight as a special incentive.”

Attempting to go along with her tone, he cocked his head in what he hoped to be a curious expression. “So bribery is a parenting skill then?”

“Totally is! I don’t know where I would be without it! Stern lectures and sensitive advice are all good and well when you’ve got the energy. But after a long day at work, bribery is the way you want to go! Makes life much easier.”

He couldn’t help laughing at this, which earned him a pleased look from Miller.

“Okay then.” She said, getting off the arm rest of the sofa. “Let me get the pizzas into the oven. Ah ah ah! No protest. I already planned you in. And trust me, you will be hungry, once you smell my homemade pizza!”

 

And true enough, when the smell of freshly-baked food drifted from the oven ten minutes later, Hardy couldn’t deny his empty stomach much longer. Not that Miller would have given him a choice.

She had settled onto the other settee, rather than next to him, and they hadn’t talked much. Fred was cuddled into her side now and Miller had a protective arm around him.

Hardy let the colourful cheeriness of the film wash over him, and did indeed start to feel uncharacteristically relaxed.

In addition – and to his own horror – as they were having pizza in front of the TV, he actually started to enjoy himself. He’d never cared for procedurals and doubly not for cartoons, but the film wasn’t actually all that bad. But more than that, Fred’s delighted giggles at every silly graphic joke and stunned attendance to the mystery he must already know the solution to, filled Hardy with a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Maybe he could actually allow himself this kind of indulgence… if it happened only very occasionally.

And so he even accepted the hot chocolate Fred had demanded for pudding, and which Miller had supplied for all, even though he felt ridiculous doing so.

When the film had finished and Hardy had finally managed to make his excuses, he felt that there could have been much worse ways to spend his Saturday.

“You do realise,” said Miller, while she was watching him struggling into his shoes and coat in the hallway, “if I’m the bunny, that makes you the grumpy fox with the sad childhood.”

He let out a surprised bark of a laugh. “Well, he also turns out to be a rather good cop, doesn’t he?!”

“Well, there was never any doubt that the fox was a clever one! The surprise is that he can indeed be quite pleasant to be around.”

She met his eyes straight on and he didn’t know how to respond. So he didn’t, but instead offered what he hoped would be read as a genuine smile.

“Good night, Miller. Thank you for the pizza.”


End file.
